


Keep Me Warm

by RedOutCold (orphan_account)



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Caretaking, Fluff (kinda I guess), M/M, Repressed Feelings, Sexual Content, Sick Character, somewhat pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/RedOutCold
Summary: Dick ends up catching a cold and Damian is delegated as his caretaker. Damian’s not pleased about the situation, but in the end, he does receive a reward he was not expecting.





	Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was invented out of boredom. And to test the waters with my sex scenes. Let me know if you enjoyed it all!

At the distinct sound of obnoxious sniffling, Damian’s eye twitched in annoyance.

He heard the tired shuffling of feet creeping behind him. He listened for the soft whisper of fabrics grazing each other.

Sweaty, hot hands rested limply over his shoulders. Damian sensed the close proximity as shallow, heated breaths brushed the top of his head. He sighed and glanced up to see a vibrant pair of cerulean eyes settled on a rather feverish yet cheerful face.

Against all odds, Grayson had managed to catch the common cold.

Innocently enough, it started with a sniffle. Initially, Dick disregarded it and went about his merry way despite the alluded concerns from Alfred. But with each visit to the Wayne manor, it was becoming more apparent that whatever Dick was afflicted with was not leaving anytime soon. He eventually started to suffer from unpredictable coughs and sneezes, sometimes bad enough to interrupt his daily activities. His sniffling began to grate Damian’s temper as it gradually grew obnoxious and repulsive, the wet suckling sound driving shivers down his back.

Bruce being Bruce, was silent about it. The detective was more than confident in Dick’s ability to endure and to persevere his very obvious sickness. The number of times Dick suited up as Nightwing and aided Batman on cases, Bruce did not express any awareness of Dick’s ailments. It was routine whenever Dick showed up and partnered with Batman to score the streets of Gotham. Despite being so very _clearly_ sick, Dick gave no impression that he would allow it to hinder his ability to patrol and participate on cases.

That is until the recent break-out in Arkham.

Batman immediately got the distress call from Gordon. The detective, Robin and Nightwing all responded and handled the situation accordingly. In the cold clutches of Arkham, they were able to clear most of the ground and contain inmates. But a close call with a sick Nightwing and Clay-Face made Batman pull back. Afterward in the batcave, a very worrisome and angry Alfred finally put his foot down and demanded ample bed rest for Dick. Dick, of course not wanting to awaken the old butler’s wrath, reluctantly agreed.

Damian was silently thankful for Alfred’s demands. Despite his aggravation with Dick’s state, he himself grew sharply concerned as time went on and the sickness had yet to subside. The concern peaked the grounds of cold fear when Clay-Face had Nightwing in his grasp, threats of thoughtless murder bouncing off the walls of Arkham corridors.

Damian was very grateful. But also very annoyed.

“Go back to bed, you _imbecile_ ,” Damian murmured. He quickly flicked away the brown sugary dust that clung to his fingers. He reached over and twisted the knob on the stove top to a boiling. Shy hints of steam left the spout of the kettle pot to Damian’s pleasure.

Dick nuzzled his cheek affectionately on top of Damian’s head. Damian couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine the dumb smile stretching from ear to ear.

“You know, not to come off as critical or anything, but Alfred usually makes hot chocolate with milk, not water. Just saying. Don’t know if you ever noticed.” Dick said teasingly.

Damian clicked his tongue. “I noticed. But Pennyworth isn’t here right now. Unless you want to call him up to leave England early to make you hot chocolate, it’s my way or no way.”

Dick pulled him closer. “Now, now. No need to get testy on me. I appreciate you doing this for me, little D.”

“Tt. You can show your appreciation by going back to bed.”

“But I’m lonely. And as much as I love Titus, he’s not much for conversation.”

Damian rolled his eyes. Ever since Alfred had made his leave for the United Kingdom to reunite with a former theatre group, Damian had been delegated as Dick’s caretaker. He was deprived of patrol or partaking any cases, and Batman had later called on Red Robin to stand in his place. Damian was still very sour about that.

He should be out on rooftops fighting by his father’s side. Instead, he’s been assigned to cooking and nurturing like some common nanny. And what made it more aggravating was Dick’s reluctance to stay in bed. After a week of caring for him, Damian swore the man was on a mission to annoy him and not get better.

“I’ll go to bed if you come with me,” Dick said. Damian shut off the suggestive thoughts. There was no implications in Dick’s words, he knew better.

“ _Or_ , you can stop being a pest and go to bed while I make your stupid hot chocolate.” Damian said as he hooked his fingers around the handle and slid the kettle away from the stove.

Dick ignored the boy’s thinly veiled suggestion and lightly hopped on the kitchen counter. He settled into a perch with a warm smile on his face.

Dick sighed. “Well now, there’s no point since you’re practically done. What’s the sense in me going all the way back up the stairs only for you to bring me the mug when we’re both right here?”

“Is being annoying genetic? It’s like you were born with it.” Damian complained.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Dick said casually as Damian handed him the mug. “I mean, you’re not the only cooped up in this place. Everything just feels so monotone and depressing. I can feel the energy being drained from me. I wonder if Alfred has ever thought about repainting some rooms or something. Just adding some color to give this place life. Especially mine, I don’t know how I even put up with it being so dark and bland, what was wrong with me as a kid? Not like your room though, yours has character, y’know? It’s got a certain charm, I don’t if it’s the fireplace or maybe the dozens of swords just sitting there but–”

“This is _killing_ me,” Damian exclaimed. “Are you usually this talkative when you’re sick?”

“No,” Dick said without missing a beat. “I usually have company to take care of that. But everyone seems to be busy. So here I am, talking.”

Damian considered pushing Dick off the counter as retribution. It would be a pointless effort though, Dick was much larger and stronger than Damian. The older man was also quicker, and Damian’s youthful body was still trudging through the annoying segment of puberty.

Dick finally sipped his mug, silencing his chatting to which Damian felt grateful. After a couple of sips, he tipped the mug toward Damian.

“This is pretty good, little D,” Dick said encouragingly. Damian nodded haughtily.

He took another sip. “Do you want to taste it? You made it, after all.”

Damian’s lip curled disgust. “No. You have a cold, Grayson. You’re not going to pass it off to me in the form of flattery.”

“Oh, what?” He laughed. “Wouldn’t the high and mighty Damian Wayne like to ravage the fruits of his labor?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting sick. I hardly ever get sick. If I do, I’m getting back at you for being the absolute _pain_ in my ass.”

“I’m an older brother, it’s practically in my job description to be a pain in the butt,” Dick said between shallow sips. “And besides, it’s not like I would mind. I’d love to spend all day with you.”

At that, Damian felt a blush explode on his cheeks. He turned away to put the kettle up, anxiously hoping Dick wouldn’t scrutinized his hasty behavior.

Damian has….a problem.

It’s something he’s grown increasingly aware of as the years passed on. He didn’t have much of a grasp trying to decipher the foreign emotions, he tossed the confused thoughts around endlessly. He failed to come to a conclusion until a trivial conversation between Stephanie and Cassandra put a word to his problem.

Damian has a crush on Dick.

Admittedly, the word _crush_ didn’t feel right. He felt that his feelings were a bit more solid than a fleeting fancy. But he was also hesitant to admit that he was in love with Grayson. And up until this point in his life, the only reference of tangible passion he knew was that of his mother and father. But even Damian realized that what they had was complicated and very unhealthy. So he was pretty much stuck.

And Dick being Dick, was absolutely no help.

As Damian came to understand what he was feeling, he tried to lay down invisible boundaries for him and Dick. It was a futile attempt. Anytime Damian tried to be alone, Dick would hunt him down like a damn bloodhound and talk his ear off. Damian tried to avoid Dick in the batcave, most particularly sparring. The older man had a frustrating habit of doing most things _shirtless_ , especially sparring. Damian succeeded a few times, however it eventually became noticeable not only to Dick but to his father as well. There was a specific incident in which Damian begrudgingly sparred with Dick. The youngest Wayne ended up pinned on his stomach, both his wrists locked in a vice grip. He remembered the way his face grew hot at the sensation of muscles flush against his back, at the way Dick’s knee hiked up between his thighs. At the sharp intake of breath beside his ear. Damian couldn’t even think coherently afterward, and Dick had mistaken his lack of speech as embarrassment for being overpowered.

Damian tried to cut back on the amount of times he patrolled with Dick. It seemed plausible at first as Batman allowed him to patrol independently more often. Yet, Nightwing seemed to always cross paths with Robin, it was so frequent that Damian began to suspect that Nightwing had slipped a tracer in his suit.

After failed attempts, Damian had settled on training his poker face and repressing his feelings. He knew he wasn’t nearly as aloof as his father, not even close. But he would still try, damnit. Anything to avoid having his secret discovered and enduring an extremely shameful and agonizing conversation with Grayson.

When he felt the heat in his face dissipate, he turned back around to see Dick still nursing his hot chocolate. The older man’s eyes flickered up at Damian’s face.

“Are you okay? You look like you just ran a marathon.” Dick slid off the counter, mug still in his hand. He reached over to touch Damian's forehead.

Damian slapped Dick’s hand away. “I’m _fine_. You should be in bed, or else I’m pouring that mug down the sink.”

Dick’s eyes widened with horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“I most certainly would.” And to prove his point, Damian immediately swarmed Dick’s personal space to grab for the mug.

They struggled until Dick finally gave in and trudged back up the staircase. Damian would later deny the instant relief that coursed through his body.

 

 

 

As the days went by, Dick’s cold subsided. His face wasn’t as flushed nor his eyes as watery. The sniffling died down and he became more lively around the manor.

Damian was once again in the kitchen, cooking chicken noodle soup from a simple recipe Alfred diligently left behind. After pouring the steaming contents into a bowl, he made a brisk trip back to Dick’s room.

To Damian’s annoyance, the man was not there.

He considered searching the library, but a whisper in his head guessed the predictability of Grayson. Damian sighed and stalked to his own bedroom.

Unsurprised, Damian found Dick sprawled out on his futon casually flipping through his sketchbook, invading his privacy. Damian had an insult on the tip of his tongue, but Dick’s rather shirtless state halted the boy’s thoughts. He felt blood rush to his face and a tingle between his thighs. In the confines of his bedroom, he’s fantasized about this scenario before. He shook his head and shooed away the graphic thoughts.

Damian exasperated. “Why are you in _my_ bed? Going through _my_ stuff? Get out.”

Dick pouted and put the sketchbook down. “C’mon, Damian. It’s not like I’m in here often. Maybe I want some company.”

“You’re trying to spread your sickness like some unkempt, wild animal. Smearing your germs on my sheets.”

Dick’s face lit up with mirth. “ _Germs_? That’s what’s getting you all riled up, boy wonder? Like you don’t crunch teeth and catch blood on patrol?”

“That’s different. I’m not bringing it with me to my bed.” Despite his initial aggravation, he settles next to Dick with the bowl of soup of his lap. Dick takes the bowl with a big whiff.

“You know, D, have you considered becoming a chef,” Dick started as he tilted the bowl to his mouth. “I can see that in your future.”

Damian snorted. “I hardly think making a decent soup and hot chocolate constitutes as chef worthy.”

Dick shrugged after a few gulps. “You never know. Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.”

They chatted. Well, Dick chatted, Damian mostly listened and rolled his eyes ever so often. When Dick finally finished the soup, to Damian’s amazement because it was very hot, the older man flopped back on the futon and beckoned the boy to rest beside him.They ended up spooning underneath the covers, Damian’s back to Dick’s chest. Damian felt Dick’s nose brush the curve of his ear. The sensation sent shivers down his spine.

“This is a pretty tight fit.”

“Yes,” Damian said. “It was made with intention of one person occupying it.”

Dick hummed and traced circles on Damian’s shoulder blade. It was odd yet comforting. Damian has grown rather used to Dick’s affection. When he was younger, he despised the older man’s touch. To him, any touch of any kind was perceived as a threat regardless of the intentions behind it, his days as an assassin ingrained that in his head. He also found it irritatingly coddling. The older man typically expressed comfort through physical affection, and it used to drive Damian mad when it was directed at him. However, as time passed, Damian learned to accept it. He even relished in it.

Dick’s chest rose and fell steadily, Damian gently rolled over to see the older man’s peaceful face slip into slumber.

Damian felt the lull of time go by. His eyes traced the contours of Dick’s face, he followed the gentle dips and curves. He gazed at the black mess of hair swooped over Dick’s closed eyes. Damian examined every inch of the man’s face until he finally glanced down at the soft pair of lips, they were ajar with shallow breathing.

Damian chewed on his bottom lip.

He shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. As much as he wanted to feel the soft cushion of Grayson’s lips against his, he knew better. He knew what line he would be crossing, he could imagine the look of pure horror stricken across the man’s features as the realization of Damian’s true feelings came to light. Silly enough, Damian has contemplated confessing to Dick in the past, tossing scenarios and memorizing his exact speech to a T. But when the time came, he clammed up at the prospect of rejection and humiliation. If Dick shot down his confession, Damian would never live it down.

Yet, even with these thoughts circling his mind, he found himself scooting closer. Dick’s breathing was routine, there was little indication of disturbance. Damian’s face was a breath away from Dick’s.  
  
His heart pounded as he seriously contemplated. Grayson was asleep, and heavily asleep at that.

 _Just once. Never again afterward_.

Damian leaned in and closed the space between them.

It was…better than what he expected.

Dick’s lips were soft. Very soft. It vaguely reminded Damian of Alfred’s notoriously delicious sponge cakes. A weird distinction, but very pleasant. He sighed and felt a lovely electric sensation tickle his senses. His heart danced wildly in his chest with each passing second. As his lips tenderly melted into Dick’s, he briefly wondered how many of Dick’s past lovers felt the sweet rush he was feeling.

The kiss was fleeting, as it should be. Damian wanted nothing more than to deepen it, to crawl over Dick and kiss him until they were both breathless. Reluctantly, he stopped and started to scoot back. Damian settled into his spot, still warm from his burrowing. As he laid back down, his eyes casually flickered up only for him to freeze all movement like a stunned deer in headlights.

Two very vibrant blue eyes stared back at him.

Damian swiftly shot up and stumbled off the edge of the futon. Dick easily sat up and followed after him, pulling the boy back up by his arm.

“Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head, did you?” Dick asked, concern coating his words as if he didn’t just wake up to his youngest brother kissing him.

Damian’s face was beet red, and the weight of what he just did slammed down on his consciousness with a hot vengeance. Dick pulled him back up and ran fretful hands over his head, checking for injuries.

“Damian, are you hurt, yes or no?” Dick asked. Damian shook his head, looking down at his lap as his body grew tight and tense. He felt the prickling of shame on his skin. He was far too afraid to look Dick in the eyes now. There was no way he woke at the last second. He knew what Damian had done and now it was all crashing down. Damian squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could disappear entirely.

He heard Dick sigh in relief. The futon dipped as the older man shifted to fully face Damian.

“Damian,” Dick said patiently. “Look at me.”

Damian ignored the demand and kept his head down. He considered making a quick, albeit, embarrassing escape. He didn’t have much options, and the only other choice was to confront the actions that happened no less than a couple of minutes ago.

Fingers tenderly graze the underside of his chin, tilting his head up.

Dick didn’t look at all how Damian imagined. In fact, he looked rather calm and nonchalant. Even pleasant.

But Damian still could not help the flush on his cheeks or the curl in his stomach that told him to flee immediately. Dick held the boy’s face in place with a gentle grip. Cerulean eyes stared back at emeralds.

“Um, I...I just..” Damian trailed off, he didn’t know what to say.

There was a few beats of silence. Then a rushed surge of lips.

Damian was completely stunned by Dick’s heady kiss. Dick fell back on the futon, dragging Damian on top of him.

Lips melted into a sweet rhythm. The shock that afflicted Damian earlier swept away and was replaced with the warmth of desire. Dick wrapped muscular arms around Damian’s waist and pulled the boy down flush to his hard chest. Damian rested both hands on Dick’s face, deepening the kiss.

They stayed like that for awhile. Kissing and nipping. Dick began running teasing fingers over Damian’s thighs, eliciting a breathy moan from the boy.  
  
It felt like a dream. A really nice dream. But he knew it was very much the opposite when he instinctively started to rock his hips and felt a hardness poke his backside.

 _Oh_.

Damian stopped, unsure of what to do next. Fantasies like this were usually a jumbled mess of uncertainty and desire for him. It’s not like he had any prior experience with this kind of thing anyways.

Dick gripped his hips and rolled them over. The world shifted as Damian found himself on his back with his wrists pinned above his head. Dick left a trail of searing kisses from the corner of Damian’s mouth all the way to his collar bone. Damian felt the weight of Dick’s hips rest against him, and the press of the older man’s erection against his inner thigh. Damian bit his lip as the all too familiar rush of arousal pooled between his legs.

“I’ve noticed you watching me,” Dick murmured between kisses. “Out of the corner of my eye when we’re alone. I see the way you get all flustered. Did you think I wasn’t paying attention?”

As the words left Dick’s mouth, Damian felt his body flush. His nipples grew hard as pebbles. His cock ached with need. Damian arched his body into Dick’s, hoping feverishly for some sort of relief.

Slowly, teasingly, Dick grinds against Damian, both their fabric cocks rubbing each other. Damian’s head falls back as Dick’s grinding melts into shallow thrusts. It’s not enough though.

“Grayson. Grayson _please_. I need more.” Damian pleaded. He was amazed and embarrassed at how quickly he resorted to begging.

Dick hummed pleasantly as he slipped a hand underneath the band of Damian’s pajama pants. A sharp cry left Damian as he felt a rough squeeze along the base of his cock. Dick didn’t stroke, rather he would give a few good squeezes and run his thumb along the slit, making Damian feel dizzy.

Dick continued with his ministrations, and Damian squirmed desperately under the relentless attention to his anatomy. It wasn’t before long when he started to feel the stickiness of precum coat his thighs. After working up a tent in the boy’s pants, Dick abandoned the throbbing erection and probed sticky fingers against Damian’s hole.

At the foreign sensation of something trying to enter, Damian halts his writhing.

“Wait,” Damian huffed nervously.

Dick immediately stopped and glanced up. Dark arousal swam his features, but a trace of concern started to etch in the set of his eyebrows. Dick released his hold on Damian’s wrist.

“Did I hurt you? Was I going to fast? We can stop if you want to.” Dick started to move away from Damian, however Damian quickly pulled him back into the heated embrace.

Damian chewed his lip. “I don’t want to stop, I’m just– I’ve never– I don’t know…”

Dick’s large frame encompassed Damian as he unleashed a flutter of affectionate kisses along his neck.

“I promise not to rush this, and I promise not to hurt you. If you don’t feel comfortable with something, we don’t have to continue.” Dick said in his ear. Despite Damian’s uncertainty and sudden bashfulness, he felt indignation at Dick’s words.

“I’m not a  _baby_. I can handle it.” Damian said, managing draw out his typical haughtiness.

Dick chuckled as his hand slipped back under Damian’s pants, grazing the tight hole.

“I know you can,” Dick said as he pushed one finger past the ring of muscle. Damian’s head fell back, eyes squeezed shut at the odd, yet...pleasant sensation of the older man’s finger thrusting shallowly into his most private of regions.

A moan escaped his lips as another finger was inserted. Then a third. After a few minutes of gentle thrusting, a fourth finger found solace inside of Damian, and by then Dick’s hand and the crotch area of his sleeping pants were both sticky with precum.

Damian’s legs quaked at the mounting pleasure. He’s never felt anything like this before. Sure, in the safety of his own room he’s stroked himself into oblivion with Dick on his mind, but never once did he ever dared to insert himself. He was often too embarrassed and sexually inexperienced to act so boldly on himself. And now being on the receiving end of his curiosity, he doubted he could satisfy himself in that manner anyway.

Dick removed all fingers and swiftly sat up. Damian heard the hasty shift of fabric and glanced up to see Dick’s cock springing out of his pants. Damian’s face grew even redder staring at it, it was much larger than he had imagined.

Damian’s pants was yanked off his hips and tossed aside. Dick pulled the boy forward and aligned himself, sensually dragging his cock over his hole every now and then.

Damian moaned loudly when he felt the head of Dick’s cock pushed through the entrance. Damian’s hands digged into the older man’s shoulders as his cock gradually, carefully slid all the way inside, stopping at the hilt. Dick released a shaky breath before he started to rock his hips, testing a steady rhythm.

Dick breathed into Damian’s ear. “You have no idea how many nights I fantasized about taking you.” His pace quickened. “How many times we sparred I was tempted to just hold you down and do it right there on the mat.”

The pleasure began to mount in response to the desperate thrusts. Dick’s cock hit Damian’s sweet spot without abandon repeatedly. The vulgar sounds of skin slapping sent another rush of arousal straight to Damian’s thighs. Dick’s hand suddenly gripped Damian’s cock and stroked him roughly. A cry Damian didn’t recognize as his own escaped his lips when the pleasure blossomed and warmth bursted in his nether regions. He looked down to see spurts of his seed pooling on his stomach.

Dick was thoroughly turned on. His thrusts became less controlled and more desperate. The futon rocked with each movement until Dick’s hips stuttered and he groaned. Damian felt something warm fill him up, and Dick held a firm grip on the boy’s narrow hips. When he expelled his seed, he pulled out and fell back exhaustedly beside the youngest Wayne.

It was silent for a few moments. Damian found himself still reeling in from the events.

“...how long did you know?” Damian asked curiously.

Dick shrugged. “A While.”

Damian glared at him. “If so, why didn’t you say anything? You knew my feelings, and apparently you reciprocate. Why were you silent?”

Dick mussed Damian’s hair playfully. “I wanted to see if you would confess to me. Why do I have to be the one to take the lead? And besides...you’re really adorable when you’re nervous.”

Damian clicked his tongue and tossed a pillow at Dick’s face. Dick caught it in time and retaliated in kind. Their banter delved into petty pillow fighting and playful wrestling. Though by the end of the night, they melted back into each other again until the hints of sunrise peeked through Damian’s curtains.

 

 

 

  
Damian felt his indignation soar as he sniffled and coughed on the kitchen counter.

“Now, D. We talked about this, you should be in bed getting better. Following me around the manor’s not gonna do your cold any good.”

“Shut up, _bastard_. This is all your fault.”

Dick was unperturbed by Damian’s overt snippiness. They were both in the kitchen, Alfred had finally returned from his trip to the United Kingdom. While Damian had settled into a perch on the kitchen counter against Alfred’s sharp threats, Dick cheerfully participated in making vegetable soup for the youngest Wayne.

“Master Dick is correct,” Alfred said. “You should be in bed. Allow nature to take its course so you can become well again.”

Damian exclaimed. “Are you kidding me? He gave me the damn cold. And before that, he gave me a headache the entire time you were gone.”

“Two wrongs do not make a right, Master Damian,” Alfred said as he scanned the cabinets for his ‘special’ seasoning.

With Alfred’s back turned, Dick made a daring move to peck Damian sweetly on the lips. The youngest Wayne’s eyes widen in surprise at the bold action. Dick mouthed a silent series of words before Alfred returned with his seasonings and dried onions.

_I’ll make it up to you, I promise._

Damian clicked his tongue as he felt a comforting warmth course his body. It was stupid Grayson’s fault anyways, of course he would.

Damian rocked back as he watched Dick and Alfred fuss over the ingredients in the unnecessarily large pot.

 

Maybe a cold wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I felt like that ending was corny as hell, but whatever, right? Anyways, I hope someone out there found this to be a fun read and let me know if it was at all enjoyable, I love hearing criticism. Thanks!


End file.
